Vignettes  A Peek into Their Lives
by SparkELee
Summary: A prompt based fic... Stand alone drabbles featuring any/all couples and random prompts I'll pull from anything from a song to TFLN. Give it a shot?
1. Marshmallows

A/N: All, I've decided to step outside the Puckleberry Universe and do a drabble style fic based off prompts. I know, I know…. It's been done before but hey, maybe you'll like mine too? All characters/pairings are fair game. For now, this is rated T, I'll change if need be. Please, feel free to suggest prompts, pairings, supporting characters etc. I'll draw the prompts from anything/anywhere…

Vignettes – A Peek Into Their Lives

Chapter 1: Marshmallow

_BZZZZZZ_

_BZZZZZZ_

_BZZZZZ_

"What the hell is that?" Mike mumbled incoherently from his spot on the side of the bed.

"S'me I think." His bedmate grumbled from her vast cavern of blankets.

A moment later a slender arm slithered from under the comforter.

Rachel groaned and started fumbling for the offensive phone slowly vibrating itself off the table.

"It's like, 3:16 in the morning. Who texts you this late?" He questioned, squinting at the glaring red numbers of the alarm clock on his side.

She didn't reply as her fingers finally closed around the obtrusive item. After a few failed finger swipes, she unlocked the phone and tapped into her messages.

She mumbled under her breath as she read the message and tossed the phone back on the table.

"Who was it?" He asked as she began to burrow back under her covers.

"Puck. That stupid, ridiculously mohowked boy is still drunk texting people. He is entirely too old for this behavior. Tomorrow, I will take drastic measures. Now? Now, I'm going back to sleep." She muttered before yanking the comforter back over her head, effectively ending their conversation.

_5 hours later…._

"Have you lost your freaking mind woman!"

Mike woke to the sound of a very masculine shriek followed by a heinously loud retort from the petite woman that was no longer laying next to him.

"ME? ME? Have I lost MY MIND! YOU texted ME at 3:15 about god-damn marshmallows! You wanted me to put them in a magical nightstand! There is NO excuse for that! I already have a husband and a child… A young child…. A young child that didn't fall asleep until 2:30 this morning! I swear to God, Allah, Buddha and whoever else you worship, I will END YOU if you ever text me something that ridiculous, that early, EVER AGAIN!"

Mike waited until he heard her move from Puck's room before moving. He pulled on a pair of pajama pants and silently slinked to his friend/roommate's room.

A peek around the corner had him dissolving into giggles. The very much hungover man in the bed was _completely_ covered in marshmallows. They were all over his bed, the floor, and he was pretty sure there was a mini marshmallow stuck in Puck's ear, not to mention the super sticky marshmallow fluff he appeared to have smeared on his head and pillow.

The laughter caught the marshmallow covered man's attention. 

"So I guess maybe I should stop taking my phone with me when I plan to get shit bombed huh?" Pucked suggested lamely as he began de-marshmallowing himself.

"You should probably come up with something. You know how vengeful she's become since she had Lydia…." Mike agreed.

"Maybe I should start looking for my own place…." Puck mumbled as he started pushing more marshmallows off the bed as he tried to stand.

"Eh, you're 30, what's the rush?" Mike replied as he moved off the kitchen.

Seconds later a loud explicative filled the air.

"He must've found the marshmallow fluff I put in his slippers." Rachel mused as she kissed her husband good morning.

"Pure evil."

_End_

(989): TAKE ALL THE MARSHMALLOWS AND PUT THEM ALL IN THE MAGICAL NIGHTSTAND.

Thoughts?


	2. Whiskey

A/N: All, I've decided to step outside the Puckleberry Universe and do a drabble style fic based off prompts. I know, I know…. It's been done before but hey, maybe you'll like mine too? All characters/pairings are fair game. For now, this is rated T, I'll change if need be. Please, feel free to suggest prompts, pairings, supporting characters etc. I'll draw the prompts from anything/anywhere…

Vignettes – A Peek Into Their Lives

Chapter 2: Whiskey

The loud thunk of metal against the hard oak table startled Santana out of her study induced haze.

She gazed up from her _Theories of Modern Law_ book and found herself staring into a very familiar pair of hazel eyes. She sighed heavily and acknowledged the presence of her ogre of a friend.

"Puckerman."

"Satan."

"You're being rude Noah." Rachel chastised him from across the table, not lifting her eyes from her chemistry note cards. She was nothing if not studious.

"I think you'll change your mind when you see what's in the thermos." Noah informed the girls as he plopped into the hard wooden seat next to Santana.

Rachel rolled her eyes. She was more than familiar with Noah's "study methods" so she didn't need a clue as to what was in the tall thermos, she already knew.

Santana, however, was new to the world of the library. The heavily stressed Latina preferred to study in her dorm but her recent change in roommates had caused some… Issues… Apparently, there was a full on war being waged in Clark Hall, suite 67A. Soon, hostages would be taken.

Rachel silently slid her hand down into her messenger back and retrieved a bottle of Sprite. Stealthily, she slid it across the table, nudging Santana's arm with it.

"What's this for? I'm not thirsty and I don't drink Sprite Berry." Santana needlessly reminded her.

Rachel rolled her eyes, set her note cards down, and explained.

"Santana, I'm saying this as someone who cares tremendously for both you and your education. You are a miserable person to study with. You mutter to yourself in broken Spanish, you flip through pages at an alarming rate of speed, you leave yourself messages on your recorder constantly, you've stolen half my pens and spilled your water all over my notes – twice. Please, do us all a favor and let Noah help you. You need to loosen up a bit." Rachel finished, her tone only a little desperate.

Santana's jaw dropped at her friend's description of her study habits. She knew she was a bit… High maintenance…But that was a bit extreme. Not to mention Rach's suggestion of letting Puck loosen her up. Rachel _knew_ she wasn't batting for the other team anymore.

"You know, that's a pretty shitty suggestion coming from you. You know how hard it is being separated from Brit! I can't believe you would even begin to ask me to consider something like that, it's really hurtful Rachel!" Santana hissed, struggling to keep her voice under control.

"Oh for the love of God! Santana, she wasn't talking about letting Puckerman sex you up. She was talking about what's in the thermos." A fourth voice joined them.

Jesse fell into the seat next to Rachel as he dropped his pile of books onto the worn table in front of him. He offered the petite brunette a small smile before he cracked the book on the table in front of him.

Wordlessly, Puck screwed the cap off the thermos and thrust it under Santana's nose.

Santana breathed in deeply and relief washed across her face. Santana smiled softly. "Ahh, I've missed that smell." She sighed contentedly, a peaceful look in her eyes and a soft smile on her face.

Rachel raised an eyebrow at her friend's nearly orgasmic response to the smell of Jack Daniels… It seemed a bit… Over the top.

"Is that a normal response…?" Jesse whispered as Santana gripped the thermos with both hands.

"Satan, you can't have the whole damn thing. That's a freaking handle of whiskey!" Puck complained as he wrapped a hand around the slim neck of the thermos.

"Santana's always had a… weakness for whiskey, Mr. Daniels in particular." Rachel replied softly, not taking her eyes off the ridiculous, albeit comical exchange happening right in front of them.

"Puckerman, remove your claws from the thermos or I will saw them off with my emery board. I have 4 finals tomorrow, and instead of studying in my room where it's quiet and peaceful, I'm down here, in this god-forsaken library with you three crazy assholes. I have a roommate who plots my demise in her sleep, I know that because she also talks in her sleep. My best friend is Rachel "I'm the best at everything I do" Berry and I haven't had sex with my girlfriend in 4 months. I need this like I need air." Santana finished, her grip tightening on the thermos, her tone challenging Puck to disagree with her slightly crazed statement.

Puck held her steely gaze for a moment before releasing the thermos with a defeated sigh. Hell, even he wasn't that stupid.

Santana smirked at him before raising the thermos to her lips and taking several large gulps.

"Ahh, that's what mamma likes." She muttered to herself as the three other people at the table blatantly stared at her.

"Santana, maybe you should mix something with that." Rachel muttered softly, slightly alarmed at her friend's desire to drink the aforementioned whiskey straight.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Rachel, maybe you should go mix your bodily fluids with St. Fagface." Santana shot back.

They all broke out into gleeful grins. Their friend was back. They all exchanged relieved grins before turning their gazes back to the thirsty latina.

"Stop staring at me or I'll start plotting all your demises." She spat at her three tablemates, narrowing her dark gaze at them.

They all quickly diverted their eyes, silently happy their friend seemed to have returned to normal.

(404): Ahhh, sometimes you just need a thermos of whiskey in the library.


	3. Adele

A/N: All, I've decided to step outside the Puckleberry Universe and do a drabble style fic based off prompts. I know, I know…. It's been done before but hey, maybe you'll like mine too? All characters/pairings are fair game. For now, this is rated T, I'll change if need be. Please, feel free to suggest prompts, pairings, supporting characters etc. I'll draw the prompts from anything/anywhere…

Vignettes – A Peek Into Their Lives

Chapter 3: Adele

His head was pounding, pulsing, vibrating. It felt like there were 1,000 little horses galloping across his skull at top speed. He could literally feel his brain pulsing painfully in his skull. Silently, he prayed for death by hang over.

Puck reached down and pulled the covers up and over his head in a vain attempt to lose consciousness for just a few more hours.

"Hey FUCKerman, get your ass out of bed!"

He groaned loudly at the sound of Sam's shrill voice echoing from the hallway. Now his prayers turned towards hoping his loud mouthed friend would leave him the fuck alone.

Moments later he heard the door creak open and felt a foot kick his bed. Obviously, Sam wasn't giving up and Jesus wasn't answering his prayers.

"Fuck off Evans, I'm not going anywhere." He growled menacingly at the blond, not bothering to pull the covers off his face.

"Whatever dude. It's your fucking class to fail, not mine." Sam muttered as he tromped out of Puck's room.

_FUCK HIS LIFE. He had a god-damn chemistry final in less than two hours._

He pulled his bruised and ravaged body out of his warm, cozy bed and into a freezing cold shower. This was not what he had in mind when he woke up this morning, that was for fucking sure.

Twenty minutes later he was dragging his alcohol ravaged body out of the shower and stalking into the kitchen, muttering obscenities under his breath the entire way.

Sam was leaning back in his chair, feet propped up, thumbing through the newest edition of Sports Illustrated. Mike was putzing around the kitchen, making coffee for himself and a bowl of cereal for Tina. Clearly his friends didn't have as much fun as he did last night. Too bad for them.

"I'll take some of that." He told his Asian roommate, holding out his cup as Mike pulled the coffee off the heated plate. Mike rolled his eyes and filled his cup to the brim. He knew better than to mess with Puckerman when he was this hung over. If the man wanted coffee, by God, they gave him coffee.

He'd barely sat down to enjoy the wonderfully helpful black coffee when their fourth roommate came ambling in.

"Puckerman, you're alive, impressive. You were quite entertaining last night." Jesse noted as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, slightly sweaty from his morning run.

"I'm entertaining every night St. Shithead. What's your excuse?" Puck snapped back, not in the mood to deal with his diva of a fourth roommate.

"Priorities Puck. I have priorities. You can look it up in the dictionary when your hang over passes." He replied snarkily, a smirk on his face as he took a bite from the apple he'd grabbed from the bowl. Tormenting his sexually ambitious roommate was a pastime of his.

"Whatever. Your priorities are fucked." Puck shot back, too pissy and hung over to come up with a more creative response.

"Hey I'm not the one who tried to pick up a fat forty year old wannabe MILF last night." Jesse sniped back, grinning even wider when Puck's face turned red as he tried to recall last night. This was his favorite kind of morning.

Sam started snickering behind his magazine, he'd been attempting to stay out of this but it was getting to be a bit more difficult than he'd expected.

Mike seemed to be having similar problems as he turned away, his shoulders shaking.

"What are you fuckers laughing at! Obviously the shifty little fucker is lying!" Puck snapped, angry that all his friends found the joke so funny.

"He's not lying dude, I'm sorry but he's not." Sam choked out from behind the sports magazine. He hated to admit it, but 'Blackout Puck' was one of his favorites…

Puck ripped the magazine from his hand and swatted his feet off the table. No longer was he interested in being patronized.

"What the fuck are you talking about? Of COURSE he's lying! I don't remember this chick at all!" He protested loudly. He knew he had his moments, but this was ridiculous. There was no way he'd gotten that out of control.

Mike turned from his spot in the kitchen, obviously struggling to keep his laughing to a minimum. He opened his mouth to explain, as he'd been the soberest of the bunch but was cut off.

"She was at karaoke last night. You kept hitting on her because you thought she looked like Adele, which, by the way, she absolutely did not but you insisted she did. The second she got off stage, you were all over her. You plied her with alcohol until her husband got there, then you nearly got punched in the face. The boys had to drag your drunk ass out of there. How do you not remember that?" Tina questioned sleepily from the doorway of Mike's room.

The three men he lived with all turned to look at their whore of a fourth roommate, all curious to see what he had to say for himself and his sexually deviant behavior.

"Dude to dude? Your drinking problem is officially out of control." Sam informed him with a squeeze of his shoulder.

"Dude to dude? You need to get your hand off my shoulder and that breath out of my face." Puck snarled back.

(404): You almost hooked up with a 200lb woman in her mid-forties because you were convinced she was Adele. Your drinking problem is officially out of control."


	4. Sweet, Sweet Brittany

A/N: All, I've decided to step outside the Puckleberry Universe and do a drabble style fic based off prompts. I know, I know…. It's been done before but hey, maybe you'll like mine too? All characters/pairings are fair game. For now, this is rated T, I'll change if need be. Please, feel free to suggest prompts, pairings, supporting characters etc. I'll draw the prompts from anything/anywhere…

Vignettes – A Peek Into Their Lives

Chapter 4: Sweet, Sweet Brittany

Rachel was exhausted. Two hours of studying for her chemistry exam, coupled with a four hour dance class after that had really done a number on her. She'd fallen into bed around 10:30 and lost consciousness almost immediately.

She would have stayed that way all night had it not been for two of her favorite people… Wait, scratch that. Two of her EX-favorite people.

A loud thunk, followed by a distinctive giggle, then an irritated growl.

The petite brunette groaned her disappointment in being woken and turned over, her hand groped blindly for her phone.

Seconds later, her small hand closed over it. She pressed the small button on the right side and the screen lit up, displaying the time.

2:17 am.

"Fuck my life." She mumbled as she tossed back the covers and pushed herself off the bed.

She yanked her robe on as she made her way to the bedroom door that separated her from the rest of the crazy people she'd chosen to reside with her senior year of college.

She threw open the door to find Brittany, Blaine and a small, shabbily dressed man standing in the hallway.

Her gaze shifted from the blonde to the boy and finally, to the man, the only one not standing, as he appeared to be passed out on the floor.

Rachel sighed heavily, not wanting to ask the obvious question, mostly because she was fairly confident she knew the answer. But hell, it was 2 in the morning, why not ask?

"What in the good name of Barbra is going on out here!" She hissed, her eyes narrowing at her friends expectantly.

Brittany opened her mouth to attempt to explain, but Blaine beat her to it.

"Brit, I don't care how nice he was to you, he's not a pet! You can't keep trying to adopt homeless people and bring them here to live with us! They aren't pets!" Blaine hissed angrily.

"He doesn't have anywhere to go! And he told me I could call him whatever I want!" Brittany shot back drunkenly, before gazing lovingly at the man on the floor, who had yet to wake up.

Rachel sighed heavily as she scrubbed her hands down her face. She loved Brit, she really did. But her drunken tendencies could be a little much to handle, especially if it was Blaine doing the handling.

"That doesn't make him a pet! That makes him desperate!" Blaine retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, maybe you should have let me have Lord Tubbington here!" She replied, clearly upset now, as she crumbled to the floor. She took advantage of her new position and began lovingly stroking the head of the grimy man.

"Ok, this is getting out of hand. Brit, sweetheart? I know you like him but he can't stay, ok? He can't live here." Rachel informed the blonde as she dropped to her knees, hoping to get Brittany's attention.

"I'll take care of him." Brittany whispered, her voice peppered with hiccups and eyes full of unshed tears.

Brittany was a very emotional drunk.

"Sweetheart, you can't. You are so busy, he'll need to be bathed and fed, and trained. When would you have time for all of that?" Rachel reasoned softly.

The drunk blonde swayed backwards, leaning against the wall for support.

Blaine snorted. It was ridiculous that this worked, Rachel using this logic on Brittany… Talking to their ditzy friend as if she were a child trying to keep a stray dog… That shouldn't work once, let alone repeatedly…

"I promise." Brittany offered, her lip trembling.

"I know you want to mean that but I'd hate to see everything you've worked so hard for go down the drain for a stray. Now, let's take him back out where he belongs. And maybe when things calm down, we'll talk about something small, and maybe work from there, alright?" Rachel questioned softly.

Brittany sniffed loudly and nodded her head.

Fifteen minutes later, Rachel and Brittany had maneuvered the small man back outside to wait for the shelter Rachel had called to come pick him up.

She guided her drunk friend into their small apartment and folded her into bed.

Blaine was still upset, that much was obvious. He'd situated himself in Rachel's room, reclined on her bed, staring morosely out the window.

Rachel stepped back in and closed the door.

"Is he gone?" Blaine questioned, not bothering to make eye contact.

Rachel rolled her eyes at his attitude.

"Stop. And yes, he's gone. Shelter will pick him up soon." Rachel replied as she climbed back into bed.

He sighed and slid down into the bed. "She needs to stop doing that. One of these days, she's going to take someone who's not as willing as the homeless. Then what?" He asked, obviously still worked up.

She sighed and turned to him. "You and I both know it'll take all of five minutes for the kidnapee to realize what's going on. And if they don't, we'll help her." Rachel informed him, leaving no room for question.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and sighed absently.

"You know, this would all stop if we'd let her have the damn cat." He muttered.

She nodded and offered a sigh of her own.

"I'll make the call in the morning."

210: I'm tired of her bringing homeless men home when she's drunk. THEY ARE NOT FUCKING PETS!


	5. Tonight, Tonight

A/N: All, I've decided to step outside the Puckleberry Universe and do a drabble style fic based off prompts. I know, I know…. It's been done before but hey, maybe you'll like mine too? All characters/pairings are fair game. For now, this is rated T, I'll change if need be. Please, feel free to suggest prompts, pairings, supporting characters etc. I'll draw the prompts from anything/anywhere…

Vignettes – A Peek Into Their Lives

Chapter 5: Tonight, Tonight

_It's been a really really messed up week  
>Seven days of torture, seven days of bitter<br>And my girlfriend went and cheated on me  
>She's a California dime but it's time for me to quit her<em>

"Yeah, well why don't you just fuck HIM then!"

Quinn rolled her eyes at Sam's outburst. He'd been on the phone for well over an hour with that whore of a girlfriend of his.

Seconds later, the man in question stomped into the kitchen. A loud growl erupted from his chest and he hurled his phone across the room where it smashed into the wall and crumbled into the sink.

Quinn didn't blink. This wasn't a new behavior. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"You know, eventually Verizon's not going to believe all your ridiculous excuses as to how you keep breaking your phone." His roommate suggested as she sipped her coffee.

He whirled on her, his green gaze meeting hers.

She shrugged. "What? I told you she was a dirty whore. It's not like she hasn't done this before."

"Don't call her that! Look, it's just been a terrible week and Shelly just… It's just.. It's not…" He trailed off as Quinn started to make her way towards her room.

The blonde sighed, rolled her eyes and turned back to him. "Sam, I know you've had a shitty week, I do, but you can't hide behind that. It's not an excuse. You can't use YOUR bad week as an excuse for HER behavior. Look, I know I made my share of stupid mistakes and it was forever and a day ago when we dated, but you're better than this, you're better than some crazy bitch who claims she had a sexual disorder that prevents her from maintaining a monogamous relationship. That's all I'm saying." She finished. She offered him a small smile and squeeze to his shoulder before she retreated to her room.

Three hours later she received a mass text from Sam.

**Sam: Hey guys. This is my new number. I would appreciate it if none of you gave it to my ex-girlfriend, thanks.**

Quinn smiled to herself and slid her phone onto the bedside table.

Looked like there was still hope for Sam Evans after all.

_I woke up with a strange tattoo  
>Not sure how I got it, not a dollar in my pocket<br>And it kinda looks just like you  
>Mixed with Zach Galifianakis<em>

Finn rolled over and moaned at the intense pain radiating off his left arm. It was intense enough to rouse him from his sleep.

He sat up and scratched his head. He reached over to his right arm and ran his hands over the offensive spot. It was covered with a large bandage.

Confusion marred his face. What did he do to his arm? He'd been fairly wasted the night before but he didn't remember causing himself any actual pain.

Finn swung his legs over the small dorm bed and padded to the bathroom, intent on figuring out just what it was that he'd done.

The light flicked on and he pulled his tee shirt over his head.

He took a deep breath and began peeling off the thick bandage.

A tattoo. He'd gotten a tattoo. At some point last night, he got a tattoo.

He got a tattoo… And it kind of looked like Santana… Santana and some hairy dude.

It took him all of 20 seconds to get Santana on the phone.

"Finnocence I swear to God… It's like 6:15 in the morning. I just got home an hour ago after pouring Trouty Mouth into bed, so unless you'd like to start hitting higher notes, hang up this phone right now." The Latina ground out, clearly agitated.

"I got a tattoo."

Those four words were met with complete silence.

"I got a tattoo and it kinda looks like you and that dude from The Hangover." He went on.

"Zach Galifianakis." She mumbled.

"Yeah, that fat guy. It's really weird. It's his face but on your body… But I don't even know how the hell I got it. I mean, I don't have any money, and I didn't even want a tattoo…" He trailed off, obviously confused at this point.

"So I guess you don't remember running into Puck last night." She sighed out, now wide awake.

""We saw Puck last night?" He questioned blankly.

"Yeah… He works at a tattoo parlor…. We went to visit him…"

And just like that, the events of the previous evening washed over him. He sighed heavily and gazed at his new tattoo in silent disbelief.

_Just don't stop let's keep the beat pumpin'  
>Keep the beat up, lets drop the beat down<br>It's my party dance if I want to  
>We can get crazy let it all out<em>

"Someone needs to tell Rachel that the dude she's dancing up on is like, 75." Santana muttered darkly, as she watched her bubbly friend grind on a man old enough to be her father.

"Let her be. She just landed her first break. She needs to enjoy it." Blaine commented, watching his best friend shake her ass while gulping down another shot of tequila.

"Or she's going to vomit on her brand new outfit. I'm going in." Kurt muttered, unwilling to watch her destroy his newest creation.

"KUUURTTT! OH MY GOD HI! THIS IS MY FRIEND THOMAS! I LOVE THIS SONG! DANCE WITH US!"

"Shouldn't have let him go in alone." Quinn mused as Rachel latched onto Kurt's upper arms and began bopping up and down, forcing the smaller boy to bop as well.

"He should have known better. He's littler than her, and she's like, super strong when she's drunk." Santana remarked.

With a loud THUNK, Mike plopped his beer down on the table and stalked towards Rachel.

Without speaking any words, he gently pulled her from the grip of the obviously older man. Then he pried her fingers off Kurt's arms and tossed her over his shoulder.

She was giggling hysterically as she stared at the ground below her head.

"Rachel, say goodnight. " He instructed.

"So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodnight!" She sang out, her arms extended out behind him.

"Yep, that's our cue." Santana announced, grabbing her coat and handing Quinn her purse.

Blaine tossed out a couple of bills and grabbed Kurt's hand.

"Why are we all leaving now?" Rory questioned. He'd been silent through the majority of the evening, as he'd been relishing in being accepted back into the fold after being gone for the last two years.

"Because when Berry starts singing 'The Sound of Music' we have about 20 minutes before she yacks up everything she's eaten in the last 24 hours. " Puck explained as he ushered the littler man out.

"Brit! Grab her hair and pull it back! I'm not shampooing half digested tofu out of her hair again, I don't care how pretty she is!" Quinn called as she hurried out behind the rest of them.

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed!


	6. Give in to Me

A/N: All, I've decided to step outside the Puckleberry Universe and do a drabble style fic based off prompts. I know, I know…. It's been done before but hey, maybe you'll like mine too? All characters/pairings are fair game. For now, this is rated T, I'll change if need be. Please, feel free to suggest prompts, pairings, supporting characters etc. I'll draw the prompts from anything/anywhere…

Vignettes – A Peek Into Their Lives

Chapter 6: Give in to Me

_I'm gonna wear you down  
>I'm gonna make you see<em>

"At some point you're going to have to say yes. You know I'm going to keep it up until you give in."

Rachel rolled her eyes at the obvious come on and slid another beer across the bar into the waiting hand of the mohawked man.

"I know you won't. You've asked me nearly every day for the past six months. Your dedication is, admittedly, impressive. But my answer remains unchanged." She told him as she started re-stocking the bar.

"C'mon Berry, just let it go…. Let yourself go… Just once… Don't you ever just want to let loose?" He questioned, clearly exasperated.

"Noah, I'm flattered, really, but my career is my top priority. I have to stay focused." She reminded him for what felt like the millionth time.

Puck smirked and took a pull off his bottle. "I had no idea you were so passionate about bartending."

Rachel had laughed the first time he'd used that line. That was a long time ago.

"Cute. Now go. You're on in twenty minutes, you need to go get set up." She reminded him.

Puck sighed, swiped his beer and headed towards the stage to get everything ready for his show.

"He likes you, you know." Blaine told her as he stepped out of the kitchen.

She smiled at the dark haired man. "I know. He's nice to look at but well…" She trailed off as her eyes drifted to the door, her gaze coming to rest on a muscular blonde sitting on a stool collecting cover charges.

"You can't see past _him._" Blaine finished sourly, his own gaze following hers to the bouncer she was currently lusting after.

Rachel bit her lower lip and blushed. It was hopeless really, a pipe dream. Sam was always kind to her but they didn't interact much. He spent much of his time flirting with a certain Latina waitress.

"He's a lost cause. Santana's all he sees." Rachel mumbled as she collected the bin of dirty glasses and disappeared into the kitchen.

Blaine sighed heavily and threw his rag onto the bar. If only she understood... SHE was all he could see…

_You're gonna take my hand  
>Whisper the sweetest words<br>And if you're ever sad  
>I'll make you laugh<br>I'll chase the hurt_

Santana laughed loudly at Brittany's re-telling of her dream from the night before. The story was beyond ridiculous but the blonde's eyes always lit up when Santana laughed at her stories so the Latina laughed her dark little heart out.

"Artie didn't think it was all that funny. I don't think he got it. He was really upset at me for waking him up to tell him about it." Brittany disclosed as she finished her complicated, drawn out story.

Santana wrapped a comforting arm around Brittany's shoulders. "It's OK. I always like your dreams."

Brittany leaned into the dark haired woman's touch for a moment, appreciating the warm touch she provided.

"I'm so happy I have you, San. You always know what to say to make me feel better."

Santana's heart clenched at the ditzy blonde's comment. All she wanted was for Brittany to see her… To see her the way she saw Artie…

_My heart is set on you  
>I don't want no one else<em>

"Plans tonight?" Kurt questioned curiously.

Blaine looked up from restocking the beer cooler, into the probing gaze of Rachel's roommate and best friend.

He shrugged and turned back to the job at hand. "Nah, I'm closing tonight, so I'll probably just head home. I'm off tomorrow though, so I'm sure I'll figure out something." Was his vague reply as his gaze strayed to the petite brunette at the end of the bar.

Kurt stared at his hands for a moment before he drew in a deep breath and took a chance. "I don't suppose you'd want to do something? Maybe grab dinner and drinks?" Kurt suggested, trying his best to keep the desperation from his voice.

Blaine froze. That was certainly NOT where he was expecting this conversation to go. He hadn't even begun to consider the man sitting in front of him.

"Kurt… Wow, that's… That's incredibly sweet of you, but-" Blaine started to gently let him down but Kurt cut him off.

"Don't you dare tell me you aren't gay." Kurt threatened, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm bisexual." Blaine confirmed softly.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Well, when you figure it out, let me know." Kurt replied and disappeared into the crowd.

_I'll use my eyes to draw you in  
>Until I'm under your skin<br>I'll use my lips, I'll use my arms  
>Come on, come on, come on<br>Give into me_

Rachel took the trays Brittany handed her and stacked them in the dishwasher. She grabbed a clean cloth and headed back to the bar to wipe it down one last time before they left for the night.

Sam was just plopping onto a barstool when she pushed through the door. She gave a quick glance around the small bar to see if they were alone. Britt and San were stacking chairs in the far corner, Blaine was in the back, helping to get the kitchen together.

"Hey Sam, tough night?" She questioned as she slid a bottle of water his direction.

"A bit, nothing I can't handle." He replied with a grin and a wink.

She smiled as she internally commanded the butterflies to halt their incessant fluttering, to no avail.

Rachel turned to grab the spray cleaner from underneath the bar. She took the moment to gather her courage. She could do this… She could be fun, casual, easygoing…

She was so busy with her inner monologue that she didn't hear Brittany call her goodbyes, nor did she hear the approaching footsteps. She was nearly to her feet, the words out of her mouth. "So if you aren't busy-"

She was too late. Santana had beaten her to the punch.

"Trouty mouth! Let's go, you're walking me home. If you're good, I'll think about letting you come up." Santana's flirtatious tone was unmistakable.

Rachel attempted to scramble back to an upright position, only to bang her head on underside of the bar.

Her cheeks flushed as Santana and Sam peered over the bar. "You Ok Berry?" Santana questioned, her brow furrowed.

"I'm fine, really. Go on. I'll be alright." Rachel assured them as she stood, her legs a little wobbly.

"Rach. You're bleeding. Are you sure?" Sam asked, staring at the cut above her brow.

"I got her. You guys can go now." Blaine spoke gruffly from the doorway.

_I'm gonna get to you  
>You're gonna give into me<em>

She hadn't even seen him standing there; she'd been too embarrassed to take notice of her surroundings.

Sam shot her one last sympathetic look before he turned to follow Santana out the front door.

Rachel turned to Blaine. "God, how embarrassing." She muttered as she leaned back against the bar.

He smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry, doll. I'm sure that was not exactly how you saw that going." He said as he gently dabbed at her cut with a napkin.

She winced slightly and shook her head. "What can I do? It's Santana. She always gets the pick of the guys. Tonight, she wanted Sam." She replied miserably.

He nodded and lowered his gaze from her cut to her eyes. "Wait here. I'll grab the first aid kit from the back and we'll get it cleaned up." He told her.

She nodded and he disappeared into the kitchen. Once he was out of sight, she let her head drop and her eyes fluttered shut.

"You know, for what it's worth, I'd pick you. I'll be honest, I usually get my pick of the women, but I'd pick you… I'd pick you every time."

She smiled. She didn't need to turn around to know who was speaking.

"That's kind, Noah. Thank you."

A warm hand pressed into her shoulder. She spun around slowly and he offered her a soft smile instead of his normal smirk.

"Evans is an idiot, Berry. He's like a Ken doll. He's fun to look at but there's not much bouncing up there between those ears." He explained as he wet a napkin and dabbed the blood that had started seeping out again.

She giggled slightly at his colorful description of Sam.

"I'm not so bad, Berry. You should give me a shot. I promise, I'll do my best to make you forget about Evans."

Going home with anyone was never on her agenda, but at this point, she'd had enough. He'd done exactly as he said he would. He hadn't stopped.

"I suppose you aren't all bad…" She muttered as she grabbed her coat and purse.

He grinned cheekily and held the door for her. "I'm bad, but only if you want me to be…"

Her tinkling laughter faded as the door slammed shut.

_And if you don't want me  
>I guess I'll be all by myself<em>

"Sorry I took so long Rach, the kit wasn't…" Blaine faded off as he stepped back into the bar, only to find it empty.

"She left. With Puckerman. About two minutes ago." A voice supplied from the corner. 

Kurt.

Blaine sighed and dropped the kit onto the bar. "She went home with Puck?" He clarified at last, though he already knew the answer. Maybe he really was a glutton for punishment.

"Yep. Right after Santana dragged Sam home with her." Kurt informed him as he slowly approached the smaller man. He hadn't been aware that Blaine was interested in Rachel. And that was unusual, normally he was fairly aware of these sorts of things.

Blaine nodded and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "God… I really thought… I guess… I just don't… She doesn't even like him…" He trailed off, obviously confused and displeased with Rachel's choice.

Kurt rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "People do stupid things when they're hurt, like go home with the wrong people. It's human nature." Kurt explained softly.

Blaine sighed heavily and nodded. He knew this, it wasn't exactly new information. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

"I should have stayed up here with her, maybe she wouldn't have been so willing… Maybe…" He didn't even finish, because he wasn't sure if he should even say what he was thinking.

Kurt, however, didn't seem to have any problem saying it.

"Maybe she would have gone home with you instead?" He filled in, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Blaine had the decency to look ashamed.

Kurt offered him a rueful smile. "She's not ready for you yet."

The shorter man turned his slightly confused gaze to Kurt.

"Give her time. She'll see you soon enough. Be patient. Puckerman's a nice distraction but he's not long term."

"And I am?" The shorter man checked.

"Oh, most definitely."

A/N: Not exactly a happy ending but well, it's like Kurt said, sometimes we go home with the wrong people…. Happens to the best of us.

Review?


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